Cinnamon and Cotton
by AlannasTara
Summary: "She pulled the apple pie from the oven, enjoying the spicy sweet aroma that had invaded their kitchen. She could almost imagine the world had never ended. Almost." Tobin x Carol. Prompted by the picture of Carol in a jacket that some speculated was Tobin's. Spoilers for season 6 up to 6x15.
**_AN: Thank you to Meeshie and Illusianation, my everlasting loves, friends, and betas._ **

**Disclaimer: I don't own TWD, these characters, or anything else of lasting value. Good for me. :-)**

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The creak of the fifth step echoed into the stillness as she crept downstairs, and she paused, listening, waiting, barely even breathing. When there was no sound heard from the bedroom where he was asleep, worn out from their exertions, she continued into the foyer and paused by the coat closet. She should grab one; winter would be here soon, and the temperatures more bitterly cold than in Georgia.

As her fingers passed over the fabrics, searching out her jacket, they brushed against the heavy cotton weave of his Dickies coat. Thick and flannel-lined, it was warm, heavy, and smelled just Iike him. Like the smell of sawdust and raw timber, dirt and sweat, and cigarette smoke. And something else…

The rain had been off and on, wavering between a steady drizzle and a fine mist that just hung in the cool autumn air. Wet leaves, burning bonfires, and the rhythmic pounding and hammering of nails to lumber permeated the air in Alexandria. It was so normal. So commonplace. Comforting. She pulled the apple pie from the oven, enjoying the spicy sweet aroma that had invaded their kitchen. She could almost imagine the world had never ended. Almost.

If it wasn't for the hollow ache in her chest that threatened to swallow her whole with memories of... _Sophia. Of Mika and Lizzie._ Her girls. Her responsibility. The ghosts of their voices playing through her head, whenever she let herself idle. Which is why she kept busy. She couldn't bear to hear them. If it wasn't for all of that, and the weight of her knife on her hip, she could almost pretend everything was normal.

The sound of the door opening and closing and the heavy thud of work boots announced his arrival from working on the fence crew.

"Something sure smells good," he commented, walking up behind her and placing a gentle hand to her hip.

"Mmmm hmmm," Carol murmured. "Apple pie for dessert."

Tobin cocked his eyebrow and gave a sidelong glance. "No beets in there?"

Carol smirked, and with a huff replied, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

He bent his head to place his lips on her neck, nuzzling at the back of her ear. "Not as much as I'd like something else," he whispered hoarsely.

"Is that so?" Carol asked him, turning in his arms and placing hers around his neck.

"Yeah, that's so," he said, hovering right above her lips, leaving just the smallest breath of space between them, for her to breach, to push forward and make the decision. He would never push something on her that she didn't want, and so he left enough room for her to choose. It was always her choice.

She pressed forward and her lips met his in a gentle melding of flesh against flesh. It was a slow dance between them, lazy and languid, moving backwards until her hips bumped against the counter.

Tobin pulled back from the kiss just enough to to whisper in a rough, lust hazed voice, "Want to go upstairs?"

She pulled him back to her, shaking her head no, her only response before resuming the kiss. Her hands wandered down the front of his shirt, undoing buttons with her nimble fingers along the way, her true goal being his belt.

"You sure?"

He always asked. There was a part of her that glowed in response to that simple little question, that treasured it and wrapped it up like a precious gift she would keep stored away in her memory.

She nodded, and he grasped her hips, lifting her easily back onto the counter. She was still a head shorter than him, even sitting on the counter, but the thing about him, was no matter his size, she didn't feel threatened. She felt safe. She felt protected. She felt warm and cozy. It wasn't real. It never lasted, and someone would always come for them, for what they had. But in that moment...in that span of time and space, she allowed herself to give in to the physical needs and desires of her body. _To feel something good._

She lifted her hips, shoving her pants down and off, while he wrested his belt and jeans open, withdrawing himself, stroking slowly as he watched her kicking her underwear to the floor.

"Remind me to bleach the countertops when we're done," Carol said with a coy smile, and she tugged his wrist, pulling him into her arms. His lips went to her neck, placing light kisses against the delicate skin covering her collarbones and trailing up her jaw where he nipped at her ear.

This was new. Different. She didn't want to go upstairs to bed. Ed had always wanted to be in bed. Nowhere else. If she were going to make new memories in someone's bed...well she wasn't quite ready for that, yet.

She wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her smoothly, filling her slowly, deeply, until she was full and he could go no further. He was big. _Proportionate_. Much larger than Ed could have even dreamed of being. He moved slowly, in no hurry to speed things along, and neither was she. This felt…decadent. The smell of apples and cinnamon around her, the feel of him inside of her, the hardness of the counter beneath her, his hands gripping her hips, her hands grasping his shoulders...she smiled when she realized he hadn't taken off his coat. Coat and shirts were gaping open, and she ran her hands down his chest, feeling his warm muscular flesh, reminding herself they were alive. They were _living._

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her firmly to him as he slid in and out, bringing her to an explosive end before he let go himself. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in and out in gasping pants as she came down. The rough fabric abraded her cheek as she sniffed, licked her lips, and finally opened her eyes to adjust to the reality beating down upon them.

Nothing had changed. It never would. But she could.

She wrapped herself up in the coat that somehow, if not just her imagination, still smelled of the two of them from that day in the kitchen. He might miss it, but she was taking it. She needed a warm coat and this would suffice just fine. A few alterations maybe, but that shouldn't take long.

When she left, at least she would have a piece of home to take with her. A reminder of the few moments of solace he had freely offered her, and the times he had held her, and tried to make her feel better.

Even if he had failed.

She wanted a piece of him to take with her. To remember.

For as long as she had left.


End file.
